Pinot Noir was sleeping in his bed. He had brown, spikey hair, and an average body type with small muscle definition that covered his pale skin. His home was pretty tiny, located in a dilapidated apartment room consisting of a single room housing a small bed, a mini-fridge, a tiny television set, a stack of insane action movies, some Ozzy Osbourne and Mötley Crüe CDs and messy clothes thrown all over the floor. Posters of naked men and women were also pinned to his slightly cracked walls.
It was midnight, and Pinot had a long day at work. He was wearing nothing but his tighty whiteys and white socks, laying on his stained mattress with his arms and legs curled up in a somewhat fetal position. Pinot had a lengthy week with little sleep, everyday feeling more like 48 hours than 24. Pinot managed to finish work earlier than expected, and decided to use the opportunity to rest himself, as he had work the following morning.
All Pinot wanted was a good night's sleep.
Unfortunately, Pinot was an inhabitant in the town of Kaos, USA, a crime-ridden city where criminals made up a majority of the populace. A town filled with corrupt police, politicians, and every form of depravity known to man, with the population steadily declining. Anything could happen in this hellhole of a town. And while Pinot could handle his noisy apartment neighbors-what with their loud pets, constant drilling of whatever they could find, and cacophonous rock music-it was the outside that really tested his patience.
Tonight was Purge Night. Hosted by mob boss Big D, Purge Night was a special night where everyone was allowed to go crazy and kill as they please. While criminals could only conduct their business underground, Purge Night allowed these same people to go wild and not have to worry about any sort of law enforcement stopping them; after all, D had always paid them to take the night off and enjoy a lovely cruise vacation. D got the idea after realizing that a night like this could work wonders for his business. To him, Purge Night was a way to not only deal with possible competition over those who seek to take his position as ruler over Kaos, but also a chance to use whatever dead bodies he could find for his financially successful organ harvesting operation. After all, a mobster like him needs all the money any way he could get. Big D wasn't the only one, as plenty of other gangs use Purge Night as a way to exploit the chaos and increase their business sales regarding certain items like drugs, firearms, and more.
Back to the story. Streets that night were littered with gun toting maniacs shooting away at anybody they could find, be it men, women, or children. But Pinot was able to sleep through the destruction, the carnage, and the explosions just fine. He was used to all that stuff given his job. However, there was one thing not even he could sleep through.
A group of thugs known as CrunkFam who wore puffy red and white hoodies and baggy pants came stomping and shuffling down the street. Some were wearing gold chains, sunglasses, and brass knuckles in an attempt to look cool in front of everybody. Slowly making their way through the city, one of them, a giant tubby dude, was carrying a giant boombox that blared loud music. Worse, it was music they sung, wrote, and produced, hoping that playing their newest album during Purge Night would get them noticed; it wouldn't be too bad, if these guys weren't the whitest, self-entitled hardheads in the entire city. The music was a mixture of rap, funk, rock, dubstep, jazz, and outdated dance pop. Not helping was the fact that these boys carried weapons, so if anybody were to talk trash about their music, they could end up with a few bullet holes and stab wounds to their torso or private parts. But on this night, these boys made the fatal mistake of playing their music right next to Pinot Noir's apartment.
Pinot had a wonderful dream. He was dancing on top of a cloud with a beautiful, large breasted woman in a bikini, himself wearing a tiny thong. "Love Me" by Nicolas Cage was being played by an angel lounge singer in a white suit. The sky around them was bright blue, and the sun was shining as bright as it could; it even had a smiley face that was staring at Pinot and the woman while they were dancing. Pinot got a good look at the woman he was dancing with. She had luscious, blue eyes, big, red lips, flowing, curly blond hair, and a small nose. Oh, she was his dream girl. He did nothing but admire her angelic appearance, as if she was created by God specifically for him. For some reason she looked strangely familiar.
"Your eyes, they're so kind. So beautiful. They match your heart." said Pinot. The woman giggled in response.
"I can say the same about yours. So pretty. So… brown. Kind of like your crappy personality." She and Pinot both chuckled.
"I know, baby. I can be sort of trash sometimes, but we're together now. Just the both of us. No distractions whatsoever." The woman chuckled. Her adorable smile made Pinot love her even more.
"Kiss me, you crazy fool." Pinot slowly leaned in to the woman's lips, as if time had slowed down. His lips locked with hers. Oh, that taste, that feeling. It was like-
Give it to me!
Dance on the floor!
Give it to me floor!
Give it to me, give it to me door!
Give it to me more!
Take it to the floor!
We shall soon score!
Jamming to the core!
It was these words and a beat comprised of what felt like rejected night club music that awakened the beast known as Pinot Noir. His bloodshot eyes immediately shot open. Sweat was dripping all over his body. One of the best dreams of his life, and he wasn't even allowed to finish it. In a burst of anger, he rolled out of his bed and walked over to the window facing the street. He opened it up and saw the CrunkFam boys walking down the road with their loud, bombastic, cacophonic music. Pinot, already annoyed for interrupting his sex fantasy, wanted to give these boys a piece of his mind. He took a deep breath and let it all out as loud as he could.
"Hey, you fucking pieces of dog shit!" The boys stopped in their tracks and looked at the man peaking his head out of the window up on the fourth floor. "I'm trying to get some fucking sleep, so shut that shit down, so I can get some peace!" He slammed the window shut. After a few seconds, he reopened the window. "Oh, and by the way, get some fucking music lessons! It sounds like fucking shit!" He reclosed the window. Naturally, all of this didn't convince the boys to actually stop; instead, it encouraged them to crank that shit up. The one holding the boombox cranked up the volume even higher than it already was. Some of the boys even did little jigs taunting the man above them.
Pinot heard the music and covered his ears. Not only could he now not go back to sleep, but the reason he couldn't was because of terrible, shitty music. Feeling enraged at their lack of decency and humility, Pinot figured that he had to do something to get back at those hooligans down below. Scanning his room for any sort of solution, his eyes locked onto something perfect. He knew just what to do.
The CrunkFam boys were grinning while dancing in place. They knew that they had this guy owned. How dare he make fun of their awesome, dope-ass music. Even better, the man's window opened up. The boys were all excited, knowing that whatever this man says, it was going to be hilarious seeing his furious, over the top reaction. Moments like that gave the boys a sense of joy in life that nothing else could achieve. But instead of seeing a pissed off pale white man's head poking out of the window, all the boys got was a large brick hurled at their boombox. A direct hit. The boombox shattered and exploded, taking the holder's head and right arm with it.
There was nothing but silence as the boys just stood there and looked at the corpse of one of their own. Blood and the boy's brains were scattered all over the pavement, as well as a dark, circular mark on the ground where the explosion took place.
"Oh, man!" one of them broke the silence, "He got Phat Terry!"
"Man, nobody kills Phat Terry on our watch" Another said. "Come on gang, let's get that pasty white nigger good. We'll plaster this dude's innards over his walls." Everyone cheered in agreement, pulling out handguns and brass knuckles. They barged into the apartment and hurried up the stairs, knowing that the elevator would take forever. They all arrived at the top, the fourth floor, though a little tired and a little sweaty, no thanks to the puffy jackets they had to wear. Sure they could have taken them off, but it would have ruined their image.
Guns held up, the boys tiptoed down the hall, the floorboards creaking with every step. They didn't know this guy's room number, but they knew that it had to be close to the front of the building, as that's where he threw the brick that killed Phat Terry. A few minutes passed, and they found their door at the very end of the hall. Room 456. Bingo. The one leading the pack, the lead singer who wore a bandana and backwards red cap, shushed his posse and gave the hand signal telling them to stand their ground. He crept towards the door, shoddily gold-painted pistol in hand. He and his motley crew were chortling. Man, this guy was going to get it good. The leader started kicking the door with his big, phat sneakers. After a few kicks, the door flung open. The leader jumped inside, pistol stretched out, yelling a loud battle cry…
Only to be introduced to the barrel of Pinot's shotgun. Pinot pulled the trigger and watched as the man in front of him was blown across the hall and against the wall, where he became nothing but a bloody stain. The leader's goons all looked at their former lead singer before curiously and slowly shifting their gaze toward the smoke coming from the open door.
"Alright." Pinot cocked his shotgun with one hand. "Who's next?"
Alright, here's the truth: Pinot Noir was a gun crazed assassin. A daytime hitman working for the mafia who would invade rival gangs' hideouts and kill everyone there. He was one of the best in the business, an almost legend in the assassin agency. It was decent payment, but Pinot cared more about his bloodlust than any form of money. Now that we got all that out of the way, let's continue with the bloody antics that are about to ensue.
Seeing one of their own blown across the room by the power of Pinot's shotgun, the goons all barged in, knives and handguns up in the air as they let out a loud battle cry. Pinot just unloaded his shotgun into the boys' chests, causing them to explode in several giblets. One guy however was smart; he waited until his comrades died before making the move on Pinot, who had just finished spending his remaining ammo on the chunderheads who charged in headfirst. Pinot was too busy reloading his shotgun to notice the guy coming at him dual wielding kukris. The man got a good scratch on Pinot's body, but nonetheless Pinot managed to retaliate by kicking this man in the stomach. He took his shotgun and bashed the man's face in as hard as he could with the butt of the gun. Even after the man's face already caved in, Pinot kept on smashing until the man's face was nothing but hamburger meat.
The assassin was panting. All that killing in just a few seconds took some out of him, but what little bit of adrenaline he had within him at the moment prevented him from passing out. Blood covered the hallway walls, and corpses littered the wooden floorboard.
The door next to Pinot slowly opened. An old woman peaked her head out the door to find the results of a bloody massacre. She looked over to her left and saw Pinot in his underwear covered in blood.
"Rough night, Noir?" the old woman spoke.
"Yeah, Mrs. McHalligar. You could say that." The old woman shrugged her shoulders as if nothing serious happened and slowly retreated back inside her place. Pinot, shotgun still in hand, walked back inside his apartment room.
At this point, he was nervous. Sure, he had stopped the assholes who were causing that loud ruckus outside, but at the same time, what if more would come inside the apartment, say to continue where the previous others had left off, or to enact revenge for him murdering their brethren. What if these guys were cleverer or sneakier than the others? All these ideas racing inside Pinot's head, the hitman realized that he couldn't take it anymore. He had to get some sleep, and all these paranoid thoughts plus the burst of speed he acquired from all the killing a few paragraphs ago were keeping him awake. At this point, he knew that he had to do something.
"If those fucking crooks outside don't want me to get some shuteye, that's fine." Pinot walked over to his bed and flipped over the surprisingly light mattress, revealing two pistols and some ammunition. "I'll just have to get them to shut up the old fashion way." He swiped both guns and loaded them up. "By taking out every single motherfucker in this rotten hellhole they call a city." He opened up his closet and saw his only pair of clothes: a pair of Jordan sneakers, jeans, a white tank top, and a black, leathery trenchcoat.
After putting them on and admiring himself in front of his closet mirror, Pinot placed his weapons inside his coat and ran downstairs to the apartment entrance on the first floor lobby. He kicked the doors open and stared at the sky. It was blood red, as usual. He walked outside his apartment and opened his arms wide open.
"Come and get me, Kaos!" He cried out to the city, " I've assassinated plenty of assholes in this city, and I don't regret a single one, so come on! I'm right here! Give it your best shot!" He expected everyone to listen and answer his prayers. Sure, battling essentially an entire city of murders sounded farfetched; and it was. But to Pinot, he was willing to do anything, anything, just to finish his slumber. And if that meant taking down an entire army of killers, then so be it. After all, he once took down an entire warehouse of gunslingers in about an hour, so it shouldn't be too hard. It was going to be a very long night.
All my life I've been over the top
I don't know what I'm doing
All I know is I don't wanna stop
All fired up, I'm gonna go till I drop
You're either in or in the way
Don't make me, I don't wanna stop
- "I Don't Wanna Stop", by Ozzy Osbourne